A/N: Believe it or not, I think the reason why Private is always optimistic is because he knows everything would turn out ok. Eh, crazy coffee effect.

For everyone in PoM Writers' Hangout Room (this not an update but meh) and everybody else in the fandom!

Disclaimer: I do not own Penguins of Madagascar, and this story is purely fiction.

The Lincoln Penny

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Fall, 1945

It was back in 1945, when darkness fell, that my secret was born. I couldn't bear to stand on the soil of America anymore. No, at least not without you guys here.

The world was starting to change, I know. But to ask whether it will change into a better place or into the twin of hell is a bit unfair. We are not put into this chess board to cheat. We are here to think, to try, to fall, to climb, to learn, to be patient, and most importantly to be grateful. Cheaters on the game of life will surely look victorious, but the truth is they and everyone else who sees them as victorious are only fooling themselves. By the end of the game, those cheating pawns will plunge into infinite despair. You'll see. For now, before we get to the end of the game, I suggest you hold on tight to patience.

Patience and self-restaint from revenge saved my life. It hurts to do so, trust me, but you'll survive. Future is the resultant of everything you did before, anyway.

I do believe that I don't sound like myself right now. What happened, you ask? Life. Changes. Time. I risked getting myself into this world of violence knowing that I'll say goodbye to the old me. And the new me – though mature and wiser – is not so pleasant.

The explanation of my grief and my loss could be that I wasn't grateful enough. I can't blame anyone else but me for it, of course, but if I'm allowed to choose someone else to blame, then it'd be this completely deranged war. Because this war had caused a large crack – a wound – to the chess board, and healing it is the only thing that I care about. The winner doesn't matter. There's no winner. There are just survivors. I'm one of them.

I know how it feels to stand amongst thousands of pawns, waiting for an order to jump into battle. I swimmed in the ocean of red, once. I was terrified. I was sad. I felt pure hatred towards the war. However I am still a soldier. I have duties to fulfill. I have to serve my country. But seeing the war as a man from two countries at the same time opened my eyes.

One thing I'm grateful about from this war is that wisdoms are still scattered everywhere. I am lucky for having three wisest men I know as my teammates back then.

"You want to know a secret, young Private?" Captain Skipper asked me once. It was dawn, right before we have to attack an enemy fortress. It was one of my earlier days as a soldier. I was scared, of course. But Skipper thought otherwise. He said to me that I was never scared, in fact, I was only lost. So he guide me back with a wisdom that I still hold dear until this very day when I tell you this story. He said, "The real job of a soldier is not only to protect his country but also to protect the innocent. Human tends to generalize everything. So if one person from one country did something bad, people tend to think that the whole country is bad." I was irritated that he dared to chuckle at such topic, but the way he laughed so casually taught me that we can't eliminate weakness, we can only try to minimze it and accept its existance. Because he told me that it would take a thousand lifetimes to change the mindset of seven billion people. I just realized now that he told me this wisdom because he's expecting me to spread it out to everybody else as if I could reduce the time of a thousand lifetimes. He trusted me, he believed I can realize the truth faster. "Don't fight to claim victory. Fight to protect the innocent."

Indeed. Because honestly the ones who pay for this war are mostly innocents. But what can you do to prevent generalization, anyway? We're all lost in the mist of war. Some may find a way out, some just don't.

And honestly I never knew if I ever made it out.

Skipper died four hours later; gunshot through the chest. My far cousin, Kowalski, died six months later caused by an infection. Rico? Hmph. He was trapped in an armory explosion. I think he died happy.

I knew one day when I finally find peace I'm going to ask myself why I acted so bitter and still have no definitive answer.

I'm not a genius like Kowalski, but he said that it's one of my best traits. He taught me everything I know about the politics in this war. He once stayed up all night to protect me when I was injured while Skipper and Rico went to guard the perimeter. He and his advanced science always create miracle in healing, and yet I couldn't even save him from a simple infection.

Around Skipper's death, Rico lose his ability to talk due to a throat injury he got from fighting. I'm guessing he took a harsh blow for Skipper before the enemy killed him, but Kowalski and I never really know. He didn't tell us anything. He never said anything. Sometimes I believe that he didn't trust me enough to tell what happened, but I'd beg to differ. His spirit died along with our captain. I think that's enough as a reason for his silence.

In the end I was left alone. It's like death was taking an advantage from this war to slip into our unit and kill each of us one by one. Too late, the war was over before he could reach me. Even until now I don't know whether that's a good luck or a bad luck, but I do know that there's only one explanation why he wasn't able to reach me sooner. Them.

"Are you sure you want to go back? I mean, you're like family and you're always welcome at my place."

Private smiled, and then he shook his head. "Thanks, Roger, but I've spent too much time here. I need to check my other home. Y'know, to make sure that everything's alright."

Private knew why Roger wants him to stay; they're both alone. Even if Private wanted to stay, there's nothing that can hold him here. He has no purpose in the Big Apple anymore while Roger still has a duty to chase his dream of being a Broadway singer. Private just can't bear the unfairness in that scenario, no matter how much he wants to help his friend easing the loneliness. There're just too many memories in Manhattan about the days with them and Private can't handle anymore guilt for still being alive – for surviving the storm while his brothers were pushed off the chess board, even if they went down as heroes.

"You think I don't understand, do you?" Roger mumbled, looking away.

"Sorry?"

Roger sighed. He inhaled deeply as if trying to gather the strength to say it. "You think I don't understand what you're dealing with. The guilt."

Private raised his eyebrow. "What?" he chortled. "No, Roger. I would never think of that! I–"

"Whenever you see a broken pawn lying and laughing you know that he's trying to confess his fear to you, Private, but he's afraid to do so," stated the older man, leaning back on the railings of his fence with crossed arms. It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "I might as well say checkmate, don't you think?"

Private's gaze got dragged away from Roger by selfish pride. He tighten his grip on the army suitcase, his mind trying to block the truth in Roger's words. "Hm... As it turns out you really don't understand me." Private never felt his tounge so bitter, yet he regrets nothing. Roger has no right to barge in and just expose every guilt, lies, and anger in him. No one has the right to do so.

It seemed like a miracle that Roger gave him a true genuine smile once he heard the sentence, but that's what really happened. The Broadway-singer-wannabe reached for his breast pocket and threw the soldier something, which Private caught with ease. The small something that now resides in his palm is a penny, Lincoln's face carved on one side.

As a changed man Private thought it was a joke, but when he turned at Roger with a confused expression, Roger just shrugged lightly and went back inside his house without a goodbye.

Just like his three friends. They left without a goodbye.

As the dark mist clears out of view, Private found himself in the middle of a chessboard as the only pawn left...

...and there's a king – neither white nor black, but gray – standing in front of him, looking down at him, saying hello without a smile.

The cab Private had hailed was stuck in an afternoon traffic. It doesn't matter, really, since his plane was scheduled to take off at eight. But there's something that kept bugging him. Surely it wasn't the foul smell of the cab driver nor the loud, busy streets of New York. It's something that weighs him down by every steps away he took from Big Apple.

Is it the fact that this is his mother's hometown?

Is it the fact that he spent half of his life here with Skipper, Kowalski, and Rico?

Is it the fact that he fell in love with the wonderful memories of his life that took place in the one and only New York?

Is it the guilt for snapping at Roger earlier?

Or is it the Lincoln penny in his pocket?

Private sighed as he looked out the window revealing a crowded 5th avenue. Families and friends were heading to the park to celebrate the end of the war, tourists were starting to come back, workers heading home for a relaxing Friday night. Four kids were chasing each other by the sidewalk...

No. I can't do this. Not now.

"Sir, Central Park Zoo, please!"

"What's a wishing well, Skippah?"

Skipper was taken aback at the question. But Kowalski beat him before he could muster any answer.

"Nothing. Just a stupid myth that people seem to believe. It's logically impossible, so don't fret about it."

"Nerd..." Rico yawned, bored as ever. He didn't get a chance to try to sleep because Kowalski smacked his shoulder with a chemistry book. The self-proclaimed psycho shrieked – almost like a girl, to Kowalski's amusement – and he sent a nasty glare towards Kowalski while rubbing his shoulder. His face was as red as a tomato when Kowalski smirked like a devil.

"HEY!"

Private flinched at the memory. It felt so real. He could feel their presence; Rico's madness, the never ending banter between him and Kowalski and Skipper's big brother-like aura. He missed it all.

"This is stupid," he muttered while flipping the penny over and over as he stared at the ornamental structure. It was old and looked so calm. Even if Kowalski's disbelief of magic had grown on him thanks to the war, he dared himself to do it. He was willing to give innocence another chance.

Save me, he prayed to God. Give me one last chance where everything would turn out ok.

Then he glanced at the penny.

One last chance.

And the penny fell to the water on the fountain, sinking slowly to the bottom to join the other hope-filled coins.

At first it was nothing. Then he started to hear some noise, which turned out to be a fight. A battle of words roared into his ears with the familiar voices of their party-crazy neighbor and his commanding officer.

Realization hit him hard.

He opened his eyes and turned his head too fast, which caused him to stumble backwards a bit and a sudden dizziness. Once he managed to balance himself he was gobsmacked to find his supposedly party crazy neighbor – who should be living in Madagascar now – and his commanding officer bickering but they're…

"Animals?"

A lemur and a penguin!

Oh, if Skipper's still alive he's going to slap me for daydreaming…

"Daydreaming again, Private?" Kowalski's baritone voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. Private turned at the source of the voice. The man-uh… penguin… whatever, was standing there writing on a clipboard with a crayon, and there was another penguin – probably supposed to be Rico – sleep standing and snoring next to him.

At this rate Private was ready to slap himself.

"Uh… yes?"

The penguin Kowalski nodded slightly, but wouldn't take his eyes off of the clipboard.

Private looked around his surroundings and tried to breathe in as much as he can. Everything looked like his life before the war. Skipper's and Julien's fight routine took him by surprise a little (since the big surprise is them being animals) for he hadn't seen it for a while. Everything else was kinda…

…driving him nuts.

"WHAT IS GOING ON?!" The words that were intended to be a full raged scream turned out to be a bunch of nonsense babbles. He didn't know why it happened, it just did!

"What was that, Private?" Kowalski asked, still not looking away from his precious clipboard.

One last chance…

He could be dreaming. This could all be a dream. He might be in a mental hospital right now in a coma or something. Yeah, that's it. Just a crazy dream.

But it's still his second chance to relive those moments he loved so much.

Yeah, it's just a dream.

Private doesn't know what 'it' is. Both his human world and this crazy world could be a dream. Either way he wasn't gonna let the chance slip from his fingers. If things should end after this he would be ready. Asking for a replay was cheating enough. Sooner or later the reality and the chessboard are gonna catch up to him.

There's nothing to worry about. Besides, he knows everything will turn out alright.

He'd be ready.

"Oh, nothing, Kowalski," he giggled. He hasn't giggled for years. "Just my little secret."

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Everytime he slap me for being innocent, I thought he was mean for trying to change me. But now I remember what he said in our previous life. "Don't be the innocent, Private. Be the protector."

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There's always time for living. Can we just do it again? One more time like it once was way back then. You gave me something to believe in. We were the best of friends. Well I remember the good time way back when. -Way Back When, by Grizfolk

A/N: I don't know what genre this is. Can someone tell me? And how about review? Thanks for reading!